I cannot enjoy the sky breaking through,

or the sun’s climactic aftermath -

the portraits in the heavens,

painted by the southernmost clouds.

The mystic trees, a vibrant green shaking /

stark against the bleak thunderous clouds

that bring soft rain.

It makes my heart beat -

I can recognize a beautiful world,

but the problem is enjoying it, the problem is not being envious of it’s ability to be carefree.

I want to let go gracefully, and then nature would understand my heart -

bury me in its beauty, gather the ravens in a mourning procession,

I want to be in silks when I die of my lovesickness.

I cannot enjoy the world ending,

It has ended for me many times

and I myself have never been put to rest,

have never gone up to the portal in the sky

that opens the eyes of the bright faces.

Is it really such a tragedy?

Maybe the man in the overcast sky

was meant to gaze longingly into the sun

and forget about his own eyes. /

His own sun, the bright face that he miserably misses, that has obliterated his life.

Maybe the man in the sky who is a part of the sun,

will chase after the source of the light.

He will never know an end to his pursuit

until he finds,

he will find my soul and tuck it away in the palms of his hands

where it will stay and discover truth,

and then his hand will be too strong to not destroy me,

to not rush around in vain and gather me,

to not want me greater than the truth itself,

for love is truth and I cannot leave it.

I cannot abandon recklessly any longer because I care and I never imagined that I could care so much.

I cannot adventure, please, I left a part of myself in a far away place, is there time to go back and redeem it?

Is there time to weep for reasons unsaid that have rested themselves in great weight upon me,

is there time to say we should not have been meant to be,

to coin centuries of words that all mean the same thing,

is there time?

Because I cannot enjoy friendship even if it is genuine,

I cannot enjoy nature for it haunts me beautifully,

I cannot enjoy music for sound itself seems bittersweet.

I cannot until he cannot either.